


We Remain

by aerinhawke



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Action & Romance, Action/Adventure, Conflict, Friendship/Love, Gen, Multi, Other, Psychological Drama
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-07
Updated: 2019-07-25
Packaged: 2019-11-13 08:22:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18028202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aerinhawke/pseuds/aerinhawke
Summary: Clarke awakens in Vault 111 to discover that her child has been taken, and she and her husband James are the only ones left alive, but he has no memory of who she is or their past together. As they navigate the unfamiliar wasteland, James starts to become a very different man from the one she used to know and love, and Clarke struggles greatly with moving on from the past. The only conviction she has is that their son is alive, and she would find him with or without anyone's help.





	1. Vault 111

**Author's Note:**

> This is going to be my first big fic ever. Will try to update monthly. I decided to write this because I actually enjoyed Fallout 4, I just think it needed a lot more fleshing out, it didn't feel complete to me. This has been in the works for a long time. It won't follow the game exactly, I've added some of my own sub plots and characters.  
> All companion characters from the game will be making an appearance as the story progresses.  
> Stay tuned, and I hope you enjoy! Comments always welcome (and encouraged)

_Shaun_.

The first thought that came to Clarke’s mind when she regained consciousness.

 _They took him_.

Her body slowly thawed, and the white borders around her vision faded. Feeling slowly started to come back to her limbs. Every part of her was stiff and ached.

"Critical failure in Cryogenic Array. All vault residents must vacate immediately." An echoing, feminine, automated voice announced from the vault's speakers. She was released. How? It didn’t matter. She was alive, and needed to find ones responsible for the abduction of her son. The last thing she remembered was having him ripped from her arms, followed by being struck in the head when she refused to let him go, and forced back into her cryostasis pod.  

There was a man and a woman in biohazard suits, she recalled—they were the ones that took her baby. There was another man with them-the one that hit her. He was middle-aged, bald, but bearded, and had a long scar over his left eye and wore a black leather jacket with odd metal armour along one arm.

_I’ll remember that face. And his voice._

That deep, cold, calculating voice with a rasp that chilled her as it echoed in her head: _“If something goes wrong with the kid, at least we still have the backups.”_

She strained to lift her gaze upwards, trying to focus on the figure in the pod across from her—her husband, James. She hoped he was still alive too. Her pod’s door opened with a hiss. Clarke collapsed to the floor, coughing, gasping, and shaking. She retched. It was strange, and scary, feeling like she just learned to use her lungs for the first time. It felt as if she just couldn't get enough air. She was weak and dehydrated, and it took her a few moments, as she knelt on the floor, trembling, still gasping, and trying to regain control of her body. Her vision was still blurred from cryo, but her already being farsighted made it worse. She ran her hands along the cold metal floor frantically in search of her eyeglasses. She couldn’t focus well enough to search for them thoroughly, so she gave up. It was more important that she get to James in that moment.

As she struggled towards the cryopod in front of her, she desperately hoped James was alive. She hauled herself to her feet, wincing from the pain, and slammed her fist on the release button—another hiss from the door, but then it wouldn’t budge any further. Ice chipped and fell off the pod. Her fingers burned as she pried the hatch open the rest of the way. Once it was open, she began to gently knead his frozen hands, his arms, his chest, his face, and waited anxiously. Finally he took his first deep, gasping breath in, and as he fell forward, Clarke caught him and eased him down to his knees as gently as she could, even in her feeble state.

“James—It’s okay, I’m here.” She attempted to comfort him, but her voice croaked. It hurt to speak. James shivered and coughed on the floor for a while, going through the same terrible awakening she experienced. When he was able to, he looked up at her. He blinked a few times to clear the frost on his eyelashes, and the fog from his vision, then looked frantically around the room, and back to her—the woman with auburn hair, freckles, and intense green eyes. “Where am I?” he asked, his voice sounding faint, but panicked. 

She cleared her throat. “Vault one-eleven. Vault-Tec—they froze us. They said it was to ‘decontaminate’ us. Remember, hon?” Clarke replied, placing a hand on his back. She wasn’t sure if physical contact was the best thing for him in that moment, but she was so worried. He looked terribly confused. “Who…” James trailed off, dropping his gaze to the floor. He was silent for a few moments. They sat there in the cold, shivering. The only sounds were their ragged breathing, and the melting ice droplets falling from the ceiling pipes onto the concrete floors.

“Who are you?” He finally asked, looking defeated. Clarke took a deep breath. This wasn’t good. She struggled to stay calm, but she steeled herself and got straight to the point. “I’m your wife. I'm Clarke. You’re James Marques.” Her eyes darted to the wedding ring on her hand. Proof they were married. She pointed at it, then pointed to his. “We have a son named Shaun. We were put in this underground vault, to take shelter from the bombs. We were supposed to just be decontaminated, but we were frozen—That, I don’t know why, but I’m sure as hell going to find out.”

She wanted to say so much more, but figured it would be best to keep it short and simple for the time being. The last thing he needed was a sudden overload of information. “You must be suffering from amnesia. The cryo maybe… damaged the nerve cells in your brain.” James nodded slowly, looked at the ring, and attempting to process what he was hearing. What had happened was overwhelming for them both. “And…they took Shaun. They took our baby. I don’t know who, but we will find them and get him back.” Clarke’s voice trembled. James simply stared at her.

She stood up, facing away from James and looked around the rest of the room for the first time. Though blurry, she noticed all of the other pods were opened already, with their former neighbours—some of them once good friends—still inside. Everyone else was dead, encased in their icy coffins. “Oh God...” Clarke breathed. She felt a shiver crawl up her spine. Everyone, everything they knew was really gone. And now her husband—her love, her best friend, had no memory of who she was and what they were doing in the vault. She was just a stranger to him in an unfamiliar place. What could she do? There was probably nothing outside the vault that could help them. But she had to try. They had to get out. They could not stay here. The Vault alarm blaring made her increasingly anxious.

James stood as well, and stepped towards her. “I’m sorry,” he said, his usually smooth and confident voice sounded small and fearful. He was shaking, trying to stay calm. His dark, damp hair clung to his paled face. “I want to remember. I hope it’s just temporary. But I trust you… so lead the way.” Clarke slowly turned to face him. They locked eyes, honey brown meeting green, and she nodded. He seemed to be searching her face for a spark of recognition. “Okay.” She replied softly.

The couple began to make their way out of the cryo chamber, but Clarke halted. “Wait. Would you mind checking around to see if my glasses are anywhere around here?” She asked. James turned and examined the area and found them on the floor a few feet away from her pod. He picked the glasses up, shaking off the condensation, and inspected them. There was a crack in the bridge; they would have easily be split in two if he was not careful.“Uh… here they are, but they’re nearly broken.” Clarke sighed. _Of course_. She thanked him and gently placed them on her face. Her vision was sharper now, and she took in the details of their surroundings. The Vault had clearly been neglected for a long amount of time; The metal rusted, tubes and pipes leaked, the scuttle of rats could be heard, paint peeled, and there were cobwebs in every corner. How long were they ‘asleep’?

They exited the chamber, and passed another identical to it. A quick glance inside revealed that most of the pods were empty. The residents of their neighbourhood, Sanctuary Hills, were all accounted for and filled up the first room, but it seemed as though no one from Concord, the community not much further than Sanctuary Hills, had made it before the bombs fell. Clarke tried hard not to think about the terror those people must have felt as they rushed to the vault with their families, but realized they were too late. Perhaps it was better they didn’t reach it—they would have just ended up frozen to death here. She also remembered all the people that were crowding outside the vault gates, desperately seeking shelter, but didn’t qualify for entry. They were turned away and left to their fate. Maybe they were the lucky ones.

The sole survivors continued down the tube-like corridor, until they came to another larger area, and entered different rooms. James searched the security office. Clarke searched the bunk room. She couldn’t help but wonder why the whole vault was in such disarray. Chairs, desks, and bed frames were turned over as if people were trying to make barricades. Papers and folders were scattered everywhere. Ammunition shells and damaged firearms, and even more empty ration packages and empty water bottles littered the floors. What exactly happened between the staff when the residents were frozen?

Clarke rummaged through the drawers of dressers and nightstands for anything they could use. She managed to find two ten millimetre pistols with a few rounds left, along with some extra ammo in containers. Definitely useful if needed. Clarke, being a lawyer in her previous life, which only felt like yesterday to her, had little weapons and combat experience, but that wasn’t going to stop her if a situation arose where she or her husband were in danger. She spent a fair amount of time receiving training from James, and in the shooting range; she knew basic self defence and how to handle and shoot a small gun. During their time together, he taught her many useful tips that he learned while serving in the army. They also kept physically fit by going on morning and evening runs together in their neighbourhood. But James wouldn’t remember that now. He didn’t remember anything about her or what they’ve done together. How inseparable they were, their routines. She quickly dismissed the pang of sadness in her heart. _Focus._

James searched, but he wasn’t sure what for at first. Food and water would be a necessity. He felt famished, but at the same time, too nauseous and distressed to eat. He continued to cough and still found it difficult to breathe. Guns would be useless to him in his current state. He couldn’t even remember how to use one. So he picked up a security baton instead. Documents and files might give him some information on Vault-Tec. Some proof to confirm what Clarke was saying. Mostly everything turned out to be empty. He then discovered a terminal used by the security staff that still had power. “This terminal works,” he said loud enough for Clarke to hear him from the adjacent room. “Maybe there’s some information on here.”  
Clarke pocketed the bullets she was counting and hurried over to him. She leaned on the desk and read the bright green text on the monitor. It made her wince. Conveniently, it wasn’t password locked. She simply logged in and accessed the entries. 

They read through nearly everything. Her eyes widened with fury and shock when she discovered the truth behind Vault 111. A single glance over to her husband revealed he was just as appalled as she was.“The experiments Vault-Tec conducted here… were meant for them to observe the effects of long-term cryogenic freezing on unaware human subjects. Huh. We we nothing but lab rats.” She scoffed in disgust. Her fingers clenched into fists so hard they trembled. “We trusted them to keep our family safe.” She shook her head, and a wave of emotions washed over her, making her stomach churn again. “How could they deceive us like that?” She pushed herself away from the desk and exhaled through her nose. “I don’t need to see any more. We have to get out of here.” She wanted nothing more than to get her hands on those Vault-Tec bastards, but judging from the skeletons and remains, there was no one left to interrogate. No one there to take out her rage on.

James skimmed the text on the monitor over again, shaking his head in disbelief. “James, let’s go.” Clarke pleaded him. James rubbed his temples with his forefingers. “Ok. Sorry. This is a lot to try and absorb.” His eyes locked on the screen, and they widened again as he read more of the entries. “Says in this journal from a security guard that they tried to get out of the vault once they ran out of food and water, and the ‘one-hundred-eighty day mandatory shelter period’ elapsed. They didn’t receive an all-clear signal from Vault-Tec HQ that the radiation outside had subsided, so the Overseer of this vault refused to let them leave. Security and support staff engaged in mutiny against him and the science staff in an effort to unseal the vault door and leave.” He stepped away from the terminal, placing his hands on his hips. “Well, it seems like they were unsuccessful.”

He was right. The dozens of skeletons lying around made it obvious that no one had gotten out. Clarke’s heart fluttered. She felt light-headed. It was likely, if Vault 111 didn’t hear anything from the outside, that there was nothing and no one left in Boston even now. More than five months passed. The decomposed bodies told them that much. But that mysterious man and those others who took Shaun; they got into the vault, and they got out. How long ago was that? There had to be somewhere safe out there they went to. She would find it. “Why did we register for this?” James asked, frustration, confusion, clearly in his tone. “This is a nightmare.”  
Clarke sighed once again. All she wanted to do was get out of the damn vault, but she understood that he would have many questions, so she remained patient. “Because there was a threat of nuclear war, and we wanted to ensure our, and our son’s safety. We were guaranteed a place, because you’re a—were—a veteran. It was a ‘thanks’ for your service to our country. I don’t know, it seemed like the best thing to do, given the circumstances. I was uncertain about it, sure, but there was no way we could have predicted… all of this.” She gestured around her, then dropped her arms. “This is fucked.”

“I was in the army?” James asked, taken aback. “Aw, hell.” He sighed and pressed the heel of his palm to his forehead. Clarke approached him, taking his hand in hers and grasping it firmly. He flinched, then relaxed. “I will fill you in as much as I can later. Give it time, okay? I know this doesn’t feel real. But… this is our reality right now. Work with me. I need you.” Her voice was softer now as she looked at him. He could tell, even though right now she was a stranger to him, that she loved him deeply. He didn’t feel love, but he felt some comfort.“We’ll get to the surface, and go on from there.” She said confidently, hiding her fear and doubt. “Right.” He nodded and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, but his eyes looked hollow.

They navigated their way to the entrance, picking up their pace and entered another corridor, just next to the generator room. A heavy thwack and scuttling along the corridor’s glass window startled Clarke and caused her to snap her head in the direction of the noise. There was a cockroach over a foot long. How was it even possible for an insect to get that big? She jumped back, straight into James, who caught her elbows and steadied her. “What—oh shit,” he exclaimed, jumping slightly himself. “Damn. That’s the biggest roach I’ve ever seen. I think. Unless they do get that big… and I have no memory of it.” He looked at it in disgust.

Clarke was completely silent. She felt as if her heart was going to leap from her chest. She inhaled slowly, and steadied her breathing. “You alright?” asked James, holding out a hand to calm her. Clarke was reluctant to respond. She let out a shuddering breath. “I really hate insects. And no, roaches never were th-that big." She stared wide-eyed at the massive cockroach still on the window. Suddenly, it moved, revealing its wings and flying off somewhere else. "Ok, we've gotta keep moving." James' hand hovered on the panel next to the door, “get ready.” He pressed the button. The door slid open, and three more giant roaches on the other side turned and began to fly towards them, hissing.

In a knee-jerk reaction, Clarke fired her pistol over James, in the general direction of the insects. The gunshots in the narrow space were nearly deafening. “Whoa, hold on.” James grimaced as his ears rung, and forced her to lower the weapon. “Save the ammo.” He said, keeping an eye on them all. He twirled the baton in his hand and took a mighty swing at the roach in mid air. It exploded from the impact, its guts spraying on the wall adjacent to him. With his considerable size and strength, it didn’t take much to kill it. He stomped down hard on the second when it landed, before it could take flight again. It crunched loudly under his boot, and he nearly slipped on its innards. He swung at the third that had nearly come into contact with his face, he nicked it with the baton and the roach redirected itself towards Clarke. It took all her effort not to shriek.

She swung her fist and punched, crushing it against the wall. It squirmed, still clinging to life, so she wound up and struck again. Clarke quickly pulled her hand back and the roach slowly slid down, still against the wall. She gagged, wiping the viscera and shell bits from her hand. “I just punched a fucking giant cockroach.” She said under her breath. “What the hell.”  
James nodded. “…You sure did.” He was stunned. They both were. Clarke tsk’d at herself. “Sorry for shooting. I panicked. I just... was not expecting that at all.” She apologized. She would have to work on not startling so easily. “Let’s move on, shall we?” She stepped out of the corridor, rounded the corner and entered the generator room. James pursued in silence.

There were more cockroaches, but to their relief, they were already dead from being zapped by stray electrical currents sparking around the room. Clarke and James walked the perimeter, distant enough from the two large malfunctioning generators to avoid being shocked. It was surprising the vault still had power, but with how dim all the lighting was, and how it kept flickering, it wouldn’t last much longer.

They entered yet another corridor, went up a short flight of stairs, their boots clinking the whole way against the steel, and made it to the kitchens and cafeteria. There was no sense in searching for food. Lack of rations was the cause for the uprising, after all.The Overseer’s office was just up one more small set of stairs, overlooking the dining area. It was already opened, and his skeletal remains lied by his desk on the floor. The room was much larger than all the other living quarters, which probably earned him no favours. There were empty supply crates stacked in one corner. He was evidently hoarding food and water for himself. Upon closer inspection of his skeleton, she saw a bullet hole in his skull, and long-dried blood splattered on the floor underneath him. Suicide, or security got to him. Clarke couldn’t help but think he got what he deserved.

She picked up his key card, and on the back was his terminal password. Did she really want to read any more about what happened? She wasn’t sure if she could take it. Her hands trembled as she reached for the keyboard to input the password. “What are you doing?” James asked, stepping in front of her. She paused and looked up at him. At six-foot-three, he towered above her. “Thought you wanted to get out of here,” he said.

She nodded. “Of course I do. But maybe the Overseer’s terminal has more information. It could be useful. What if there’s some sort of clue where Vault-Tec HQ is—Where those people took Shaun. I have to know. Plus, I think we need it to open the doors.” She directed herself around him, reaching for the terminal again. She input the password and she was in. The Overseer’s entries were there.

James mumbled incoherently. Reading the journals suggested that the Overseer didn’t want to open the vault even after the one-hundred-eighty day shelter period, because the radiation would still be too strong. The ‘All Clear’ signal was actually just supposed to be further instructions from the Vault Tech main office. So, even the Overseer was kept in the dark along with his staff. There was nothing more to be read on the terminal. Only the option to open the excavation tunnel that he closed so no one could get out. The doors slid open, so Clarke and James could continue. 

The two finally made it to the exit, but to unlock the giant vault hatch, they needed a Pip-Boy, a portable personal computer that could be equipped to the forearm. It was an essential item to have while living in a vault. There was an extendable electronic key attached that unlocked many of the vault doors. It also did useful things such as play holotapes, the radio, send messages, keep track of inventory, and display the physical statistics of any organic being it scanned, and monitor the health status of its user. It also had a geiger counter. Thankfully, they didn’t have to search long, as there was a skeleton on the floor behind a desk, wearing a tattered lab coat, with a still-functional Pip-Boy around its arm.

Clarke bent down and pulled it off the former Vault-Tec scientist, shaking out the skeletal arm from the device and putting it on her own. She snapped the latch into place, wiped the dusty screen with her thumb and flicked the power switch on. It beeped quietly and the screen lit up, showing a cheerful looking cartoon-styled boy who wore the signature blue and yellow vault jumpsuit. He smiled and gave a thumbs up. The official Vault-Tec mascot. Clarke sneered. That company had pulled the wool over their eyes. They had promised them safety and security. Little did the newlywed couple know that behind those fake smiles and reassurances was a plan so sinister and inhumane. She should have known it was all too good to be true. It was almost second nature to her to detect dishonesty in others; it was one of the things she was exceptionally good at. She had bad feelings about the whole thing. Unfortunately, they had so little options. They made a snap decision with the threat of nuclear war becoming more and more of a possibility as the days went on. _Maybe we should have built a bunker of our own—Maybe the three of us would have been okay—Those bastards wouldn’t have taken our son—_

"Hey, Clarke.” James placed a hand on her shoulder. She blinked and broke her gaze from the Pip Boy which she had been intensely staring at for a few moments. “Common'.” He could tell that she was noticeably distressed. And he didn't like being inside the vault either. Clarke apologized and shook her head, breaking her chain of self deprecating thoughts. She pulled out the key from the pip boy and stuck it into the vault hatch release and pushed the large button next to it. The meshed metal walkway extended, squeaking loudly, followed by the vault’s platform elevator slowly descending and clanging into place once it reached the bottom. Clarke and James walked across and stepped onto the elevator. She pushed the button inside and they began to ascend. It was a long way up, and the elevator slightly trembled under their weight, after not being used for such a long time. It creaked and groaned so loudly that if either of them were to say anything, they wouldn't be able to hear. Clarke kept her head up, never wanting to look down into Vault 111 ever again.


	2. Sanctuary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke and James reach their former neighbourhood and reunite with Codsworth, meet a young woman named Angela, and learn of a group of survivors that have recently settled in Sanctuary.

The sunlight was blinding. They winced as their vision adjusted to the outside world. 

Clarke could only muster a shocked sigh at the sight before her. She glanced over at James, who gaped at the scorched earth, the barrenness of the landscape; in the distance their former suburban cul-de-sac neighbourhood was now nothing but rubble, dried shrubbery, and dilapidated, rotted houses. It was hauntingly quiet, and there was a noticeable chill in the October morning air. The sun was just starting to rise. dead leaves littered the ground all around them. James’ eyes were filled with despondency. He knew the world wasn’t supposed to look like what they were seeing; he got the sense of what was lost. 

Clarke tried to take a step forward, but she was rooted to the spot. Grief and shock overwhelmed her. She felt dizzy, and started to tremble uncontrollably. She breathed through her nose in attempt to calm herself down.  
“You alright?” James asked. His hand hovered over her back, but he let it return to his side.  
“I have to be.” She replied after a few deep breaths.   
"Are you?"  
"I don't know." James replied quietly. The couple was still standing on top of the Vault entrance. She scowled down at the large yellow numbers; 111, now faded and covered in dried dirt and debris. “Let’s keep moving.” She muttered, stepping away from the platform and headed down the hill towards Sanctuary. James followed in her wake.

They cautiously approached the neighbourhood, Clarke with her pistol raised,treading lightly so they wouldn’t make too much noise, in case there was anyone around who wouldn’t take kindly to their presence. It appeared there was a small group of people living there; shacks were built further into the neighbourhood, and she caught the scent of a burning campfire.  
As she surveyed the environment, she spotted a familiar silhouette.

“No… it couldn’t be.” Clarke muttered. It was unmistakeable; the spherical body with three lensed eyes, three appendages and a small jet underneath, propelling it slightly above the ground. Their 'Mr. Handy' robot butler, Codsworth, was in their front yard, clipping away at the bare hedges with his sheers, resuming his duties as if everything were completely normal. She quickened her pace.

“Codsworth?” She called, lowering her gun, hoping he would still recognize her.  
Codsworth rotated, his robotic body whirring. All three eyes blinked in surprise. “As I live and breathe!” His cheery, posh accent was a welcome sound to her ears. “Mrs. Marques, ah, and Mr. Marques! It’s _really_ you…”  
Clarke shook her head in disbelief.“I-I can’t believe you’re still here. Still functioning.” His once spotless, shining chrome body was now bronze and rusted.   
“Indeed I am! Oh... My goodness, mum, you look absolutely distraught.” Codsworth’s eyes shifted from her to James, who stood behind her, looking more confused than anything. “Where is young Shaun?"

  
Clarke let out a wavering breath. “He’s not with us, Codsworth. He was taken while we were in the vault.”  
“Oh my, what do you mean? That can’t be true… It simply can’t. You must be suffering from hunger-induced paranoia. I’ll fix you something. Not eating properly for two-hundred years will do that, I’m afraid.”  
Clarke felt her stomach drop. Did she hear him correctly? “What? No. That’s not possible. We weren’t out for _that_ long. Not two-hundred years.” Her voice grew shrill. She was losing her composure. She heard James cuss under his breath behind her.  
“…Er, well, a bit over two-hundred-and-ten actually, mum. Give or take a little for the Earth’s rotations and some minor dings to the ‘ole chronometer. That means you’re two centuries late for dinner!” Codsworth let out a laugh that seemed awkward and forced. “You must be famished.”  
Clarke’s brow furrowed. She took a deep breath, and it came out as a sigh of frustration. “Codsworth, you’re acting weird. Tell me what’s wrong.” She demanded.  
  
Codsworth’s voice broke. “I… I… Oh mum, it’s been just horrible! Two centuries without my family, no one to talk to, no one to serve. Up until two weeks ago, that is. I spent the first ten years trying to keep the floors waxed, but nothing gets out nuclear fallout from vinyl wood. Nothing! And don’t get me started about the futility of dusting a collapsed house. And the car! The car! How do you polish rust?” He cried, waving his appendages frantically.  
Clarke steadied him. “Okay, whoa. Stay with me pal. Keep it together.”  
“I’m afraid I don’t know anything,” he said sadly, “the bombs came so suddenly, and all of you left in such a hurry. I thought for certain you and your family were…dead. I am happy to see you and Sir now, but you say young Shaun has been taken… how dreadful.”  
Clarke nodded. “It is. But we’ll find him.” She said with conviction, and a sharp nod. She turned around to face James. She took him by the hand and pulled him forward. “Do you remember Codsworth at all?” she asked, hopeful. Although, she had to admit she would be a tad offended if he remembered Codsworth first and not her. James pressed his lips together tightly. “No, I’m sorry.” He shrugged. Clarke gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. He fell silent again. 

Suddenly, the sound of a dog barking and approaching footfalls diverted their attention. A young woman dressed in a patched, brown leather coat hurried over to them with her large makeshift rifle pointed ahead, with by a german shepherd running alongside her. She had a dirtied face and cropped, messy blonde hair.  When she saw their vault suits up close, her guard seemed to drop. The shepherd lowered his ears and growled at the strangers.   
"Shh, Dogmeat, it's alright." The young woman patted his head. She nodded towards them. “Vault dwellers? What's your business here?” She asked. “Not very often we see your kind on the surface.”  
Clarke raised her hands, moving her pistol away from the blonde, to show they meant no harm. “We came from Vault one-eleven, just over there,” she jerked her thumb behind her, in the direction of the hill, “I’m Clarke. This is James.” She spoke as calmly as she could muster, even though she was still reeling internally from being informed that herself and James had been popsicles for much, much longer than she initially thought.  
  
“There’s no need to worry, miss Angela,” Codsworth interjected, hovering in between them, “they are my family. Mr. And Mrs. Marques used to live here, many years ago.” He explained. “Oh?” Angela raised a brow. “But they...left you here and moved into that vault?” She had a strong Bostonian accent, but it sounded different than what Clarke was used to; it seemed over-exaggerated, like she was trying to do a comical impression of one, Clarke noticed. A nuclear war and two centuries going by changed a lot about the world, including the way people spoke.  
“Well, no,” Clarke sighed, “it’s complicated."  
“Huh. Well, if Codsworth here says you're alright, then alright." She lowered her rifle and let it hang by her hip. "So, you guys look pretty rough.” Angela said, wincing as she eyed the pair up and down. “How about we get ya some food and water and you can explain everything when you’re less dead-lookin’?”

Clarke blinked, almost offended, then looked from Codsworth to Angela with suspicion.   
“Don’t worry mum! Angela is quite genuine,” Codsworth assured, “A real helper! She assisted a group of survivors and lead them here from Concord. Lovely bunch. But they’ve been through much turmoil; such a shame.” His eyes drooped sadly.  
“Yeah, it was a real mess. Survivors from the Quincy massacre. They lost a bunch of their own before I met ‘em. Had to fight off a shit ton of raiders in the old museum—fuckin’ scum—and a DEATHCLAW. But we made it through. I’m glad I ran into them when I did so I could help out. Didn’t know about this place though, was completely empty and abandoned for a while until we arrived. Mama Murphy had one of her crazy visions and lead us right here.”  
Clarke stared blankly at Angela, perplexed. Not only did she speak fast, but she hadabsolutely no idea what this girl was talking about. Quincy massacre? What the hell was a deathclaw? raiders? who was this Mama Murphy?  
"…Okay,” Clarke drawled.  
“Sorry, gettin’ ahead of myself,” Angela raised her hands apologetically, “I’ll shut up now. Just follow me for SUSTENANCE.” She pointed ahead and marched. Dogmeat barked contentedly and followed her. Clarke took notice of James' baffled expression. “Don’t worry, I’m just as lost as you are right now.” She mumbled aside to him.

Angela lead them to a small underground bunker behind one of the former residents' homes, just two over from their old house. Dogmeat sat and waited just outside.  
“We’re really lucky we found this person’s stash, there's a lot here—won’t have any fresh crops until the ones we planted grow in, so this has been holding us over.” She explained, taking a box of Sugar Bombs off of the rusted metal shelf and handed it to James. Clarke half-smirked at the memory of when she was a child and begged her parents to let her eat it. It was notorious for the tantrums it would cause children to have when their parents refused to buy it. It was also James' guilty pleasure, but she knew he wouldn't remember, so she didn't bother mentioning it. No one but her would remember the owners of the bunker either. She thanked them internally.  
James took the box of cereal and examined it. His stomach groaned loudly, but he still looked wary. "Ignore the expiry date. I bet that shit's good forever." Angela shrugged.  
She picked out a small stack of canned, non-perishable pre-war food and handed the rest to Clarke. She grabbed four cans of purified water and placed two each in the crooks of their arms. Upon seeing the water, Clarke realized just how parched she was. She opened the lid and took small sips to not make herself sick. She still felt a mix of famished and nauseous. Once they had what they needed, they exited the bunker, and Angela locked it behind her and pocketed the keys.  
  
She brought the couple to the settler's dining area, which was no more than a few makeshift wooden tables and chairs, next to a fire pit with some cooking utensils. They sat down with their food, and paced themselves while eating. Dogmeat waited at their feet, eagerly awaiting any food that fell to the ground. Clarke occasionally reached down to pet him, it was somewhat comforting to feel his warm, soft fur beneath her fingers. She always loved dogs. James and her had talked about getting one once Shaun was a bit older.  
"I gotta know, what's the deal with you two? Angela asked, breaking the silence. "Like, how long were you down there? Are there any more of ya?"  
Clarke simply chewed her food, debating on what she was willing to tell. Or what she shouldn't tell. She looked at the ground, exhausted, overwhelmed, and still trying to make sense of everything. James cleared his throat after taking a big swig of water. "Honestly, it's going to sound pretty unbelievable." Clarke turned her head to him in surprise. He had been rather quiet, and she wondered what was going through his head.  
"Try me." Angela leaned forward intently.  
  
"I have no memory of what my life was like before. The two of us woke up in Vault one-eleven after being frozen, for apparently, over two-hundred years. We were the only survivors. She's my wife. Oh, and we have a son, named Shaun? Shaun. He was taken from us while we were frozen. We're going to try and find him even though we have no possible idea where he could've gone or if he's even still alive." He laughed sharply.  
Clarke shot him a cold glare. It hurt to hear him sound so uncaring. She had a feeling, or perhaps it was a desperate belief, that Shaun was still alive. She wouldn't give up until she had some answers, and she would get them with or without her husband's help.  
Angela stared incredulously. "Damn. Sorry about your kid. But wait, you two are from _before_ the war? Holy shit."   
"That was more information than I planned on revealing." Clarke said sternly. James shrugged, shovelling in a handful of Sugar Bombs.  
"If we're too open, we might attract the wrong kind of attention. Possibly become a target. I would have simply asked where we could go to get some help with finding a missing person." Clarke explained irritably.

"Well, I won't go blabbin' to anyone," Angela reassured, glancing between them, diverting from the obvious tension, "you have my word. I was just curious to hear your story. You must have a lot of questions. I mean, I still got a  _lot_ of questions, but I won't pry. I'll do my best to answer yours." She smiled, and Clarke analyzed her face. She seemed like a good person, if a little eccentric. Clarke was always perceptive, and so far Angela was raising no red flags. "Yeah," Clarke huffed, "I sure do. I Just don't know where to start." She pondered for a few moments, scraping her spoon along the edges of the her can of cram to get the last bit. It was not at all appetizing in any way, and the taste made her shudder, but it filled her stomach, and that's what mattered for now. "Okay, I'll start with this: Who are the others that are here with you? You said you helped them get to Sanctuary Hills, and you fought... raiders? and a killer...claw?"   
"Deathclaw," Angela corrected. "They're nasty creatures. Big, aggressive, scaly, lots of teeth, razor-sharp claws and enough strength to tear a human in half."  
Clarke swallowed hard. Well, the name was certainly fitting. She was too stunned to speak, but James asked what she was about to. "How did you fight something like that?" He placed down his box of sugar bombs, looking suddenly ill.  
"With these babies," Angela replied smugly, flexing her arms. Neither of them laughed. Clarke eyed Angela's small frame. The young woman was skinny, and not even very tall, it was very doubtful she could take on one of those creatures she described on her own. "Sorry, just jokin' around. It's not a great time, I get it. I actually used an old set of power armour equipped with a minigun we found at the museum on the roof. Still, got pretty banged up though. The power armour was totally trashed. The Deathclaw tore it up pretty good, but I tore him up better." She grinned. "Anyway, the group of survivors I found were being lead by a Minuteman named Preston Garvey, the others are Jun and Marcy, Sturges, and of course, Mama Murphy. She's the one who had a vision about this place, Sanctuary, so we decided to come here. I don't have anywhere else to be, so I've been helping them get settled-and they need all the help they can get."  
"Wait, what do you mean 'had a vision'? Is this Mama Murphy psychic or something?" Clarked asked, unconvinced.   
Angela nodded. "Mhmm. She calls it the 'Sight'. She described this placed exactly as it is before any of us saw it. Now that I remember, she... did actually mention something about us meeting 'people who used to live here'," Angela's eyes widened, "I guess she saw you two as well."  
Eager to know more, Clarke couldn't help but shift in her chair. "I'd like to speak with her," she said, "if that's alright."  
"Yeah. Everyone should be waking up by now," Angela replied. "Come with me."  
"This should be interesting." James remarked under his breath.

Angela led them to the wooden shacks at the end of the street, surrounding the towering, barren elm tree in the centre. Only three shacks were built so far, but they were well-constructed. Clarke would consider them cabins, but they were still a bit too rough-around-the-edges. They also seemed to be roomy enough for four people to sleep in comfortably. Wood, metal scraps and other building supplies and tools were piled up nearby, so there were obvious plans to make more. She was impressed with how resourceful these people were. Outside the shack were two rusty patio chairs with a crate in between them. Atop the crate was some kind of inhaler. "Mama Murphy likes to hit the jet," Angela laughed, shaking her head. "Preston hates it, but it doesn't stop her. Apparently it helps enhance her visions."  
"...Really?" Clarke couldn't help but raise a single eyebrow in both amusement and confusion. "What's jet?"  
"Oh man, there's so much you two are not going to know. I think I might write a post-war Commonwealth encyclopedia for you." Angela said. Clarke knew she was joking, but had to admit that it would actually be useful. "So, jet," Angela explained, "is a chem. You can get easily addicted to it. When you take it, it like, triggers a rush of energy and endorphins. It's good shit - Uh, I mean, so I've heard. I don't know.  _Apparently_  to the user it makes time seem to slow down, when actually, you're moving and thinking real fast."  
Clarke hummed. "To me it sounds like someone's speaking from experience." Her mouth twitched into a small smirk. Angela placed her hands on her hips and looked as if she were about to deny it, but she dropped her arms and huffed. "Ok, I may have done it once or twice or a few times, who's countin'?" She shrugged, "but it's been a long time, I've smartened up, I'm clean and sharp now. Don't need that kind of stuff. Just rots your brain. But not me, I'm still all there and fit as a fiddle. Um, Anyway, do ya wanna talk to her or not?"  
  
Clarke, still half-smirking, gestured to the door. She wasn't judging. She mostly just found it amusing that Angela seemed to be trying to impress her. Angela knocked on the door lightly and called out to Mama Murphy. Clarke heard slow shuffling of feet on the creaky floor. "Be with you in just a second." Said the soft spoken and drawling voice. The door opened and revealed a pale, short, elderly woman, slightly hunched over and droopy-eyed, but with a warm and friendly smile. She wore a mint-coloured blazer, a blue headscarf with a zig-zag printed pattern, and a purple shawl wrapped her neck and shoulders. Her dangling earrings swayed as she nodded towards them in greeting. "Good morning, Angela. And ah...you two. I knew you'd be here. Your energy is tied to this place." She said assuredly. Clarke had always been a logical person, she never was much of a believer in psychics or anything of the sort, but this woman standing before them was starting to make her think otherwise. How could she possibly know who they were? "Our energy? What do you mean?" She needed more clarity.  
Mama Murphy gazed at them with a sorrowful expression. "Well, I saw you leave that ice box. I know your pain. This world...it's not yours, but here you are."  
Clarke just stared, her jaw agape. She looked over to James, who crossed his arms and leaned in further, curious. Mama Murphy tenderly reached out and grasped Clarke's hand, urging her and James to come inside and sit down. Clarke allowed herself to be lead in without hesitation, followed by James. Angela wanted to listen, but decided it was best to give them some privacy, despite her gnawing curiosity and desire to know more about these strangers out of time. She turned on her heel and continued her morning patrol through the neighbourhood with Dogmeat.

The shack was minimally furnished, with only an old kitchen table and four chairs, and some lanterns and candles set up on boxes and crates. In the corner there was two sleeping bags. Mama Murphy shuffled over to the single window, and pulled back the cloth curtain, letting the daylight in. She gestured for the two to have a seat at the table. Without a word, Clarke and James did so.   
Mama Murphy slowly lowered herself into the chair, while clutching her back and wincing. "I'll tell ya, sleeping on the floor is not good for these old bones. That sleeping bag doesn't do much." She chuckled. Clarke felt sorry for her. It was clear she was in pain. "But I've just got to be patient and remind myself what we're going through is only temporary. I've seen Sanctuary and what it will become... thriving, and a lot more comfortable."  
"Hold on. Can you explain how you know all of this?" Clarke pressed, with a hint of sharpness in her tone, leaning back and crossing her arms. The thought of Mama Murphy possibly working for Vault-Tec and having access to information about them had crossed her mind. It seemed unlikely, judging from her character, but she knew she needed to be careful with who she trusted. Mama Murphy maintained her calm and friendly demeanour, and simply smiled at her. "I understand if you are skeptical. The Sight isn't always clear. I can't exactly explain how it works... I just know I've had it for as long as I can remember. And the chems, well, they help to open things up a bit, give me a better picture. I can see a bit of what was, and what will be. And even what is, right now."  
James shifted in his chair. "So, can you see anything in my past? Anything at all?" He asked with desperation. He was leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees, wringing his hands together. It pained Clarke to see him so lost, so confused, and frustrated, but anything she said to him wasn't helping, every gesture, every touch, he only pulled away. So she just listened and hoped Mama Murphy could give him some answers.

  
Mama Murphy turned her pale blue gaze to him, unblinking, which made him slightly uneasy. "Oh..." she gasped sadly, now seeming to look right through him. "War. Destruction. Death. You've experienced much loss. But also... Passion. Happiness. Love. A love that burns deep and bright, a love that fills you, makes you stronger. Her," Mama Murphy pointed to Clarke, while still locking eyes with James, "and your son. You were a happy family..." Mama Murphy said softly, smiling as if she herself could feel the love they had for each other and for their child. But then her smile turned to a deep frown as her brow furrowed, "But these memories, all you know, are lost to you, detached as if they... aren't yours at all. Oh, I'm sorry, kid."   
James nodded and dropped his head into his hands. He took a deep breath. Clarke watched him silently, her eyes watering. "Well," he said, "you're right. My past is gone. And I feel nothing now." He turned towards his wife. "I'm sorry, Clarke. For being doubtful of you. It's not that I didn't trust you, I'm just trying to make sense of all this. I'm...scared, scared that I don't remember anything. It's like I'm an empty shell." His dark brown eyes wavered. She reached for his hand and grasped it. "I love you," she said firmly, "I will never give up on you, even if you don't feel that love right now. I made a promise, through thick and thin, for better or for worse. I will be here for you through all of this. Just give it time."  
James glanced down at the ring on his finger. "I can't promise to be the man I once was. But I will try my best to help you, even in the state I'm in." His voice sounded far away, and his words were half-hearted. The thought of him abandoning her or not loving her anymore was gnawing away at her. She couldn't remember a time that they weren't together. To lose that companionship after all they had already lost would be unbearable. Clarke didn't even want to think about it.   
  
Mama Murphy looked at them sadly. "With the two of you workin' together, you have a much better chance of finding your son." Clarke jolted reflexively at the mention of Shaun. "I knew it, I knew he was alive. Where is he, Mama Murphy?"  
The elderly woman let out a deep sigh. "I wish I knew, kid, I really do. I can't see where he is. I just feel his life force, his energy. He's out there. And even I don't need the Sight to tell you where you should start lookin'." She held out her arms in a grand gesture. "The great green jewel of the Commonwealth: Diamond City; the biggest settlement around."  
Clark hummed. "Alright. We can start there. What's in Diamond City?"  
Mama Murphy sighed once more, her eyes becoming even more droopy. "Look, I'm tired now. The Sight takes a lot out of me. Just give me a moment," she said, reaching into her pocket and pulling out an inhaler like the one they saw outside. Jet.   
"Oh," James started, putting a hand up to stop her, "it's alright. I'm sure we can just go there and see for ourselves." He looked at Clarke, expecting her to agree. "Well," Clarke sneered, "having a bit more of a lead would be beneficial. That's all I'm saying."  
Mama Murphy nodded. "I agree, and I want to help you. Don't worry kid, done this loads of times," she assured James, who frowned. She pushed the top of the inhaler and took a deep breath in, and held it for a few moments. "Now", she breathed out, her pupils going wide, "let me ride the high to where the Sight wants to take me."  
Clarke suddenly felt slightly guilty for encouraging an old woman in her chem addiction. But the selfish part of her didn't care. She wanted to find Shaun as fast as she could, and she would do anything. "Diamond City holds answers," Mama Murphy continued, "but they're locked tight. You ask them what they know, but the people's hearts are chained up with fear and suspicion. But you find it. You find that heart that's gonna lead you to your boy. Oh it's...it's bright. So bright against the dark alleys it walks." Mama Murphy slumped back in her chair now, her eyes almost fully closed. "That's... that's what you've got to do...Follow the signs to the bright heart."   
"Are you alright?" James asked, concerned. Mama Murphy smiled weakly. "Of course, that just took a lot out of me is all, I'll be fine... I'm gonna need to rest now."  
"Okay. I think we have enough. Thank you, Mama Murphy. We'll leave you be now." She placed her hand gently over hers. Mama Murphy patted it. "Don't mention it, kid," Mama Murphy replied, "best of luck to you both. I'll see you again soon..."  
James thanked her as well, and they left the cabin. He closed the door gently behind him. Once they were a few paces away, he stopped and placed his hands on his hips and turned to Clarke. "We shouldn't let her take that stuff."  
Clarke scoffed, "James, she offered to help us. We know where to go and what to look for now. It was still...sort of vague, I think, but I'm sure we'll know what she means once we actually get to Diamond City."  
"Yeah. I don't know about going there just yet."  
"Why not?"  
"All of my combat knowledge is gone. And from what we've seen in the vault, and from what Angela described, I don't think either of us can just venture out there. We'll be killed, either by these Raiders, or some mutated, monstrous creature."  
Clarke knew he had valid points, but she was stubborn, and didn't want to admit it. "But Shaun, he's-"  
"He's alive. He's out there. But we could die _while_ searching for him, and never end up finding him at all. We need to be smarter about this." He went to grab Clarke's shoulders to focus her, because she was beginning to pace back and forth. She shrugged him off. "Maybe Angela could take us to Diamond City," she said, "she seems to be experienced and knows her way around. She said she travels alone often. I can still use a gun. James, you're over six feet tall and probably more built than anyone around. No one will mess with us. And we can just...run if we see something dangerous. I think we'll be fine."  
Even listening to herself, Clarke knew that she wasn't thinking clearly, but she was still convinced and determined enough that they could make it if they were careful and all travelled together.   
"I get what you're saying, Clarke, I do, but I just think we'll be better off if we wait a few days, get our energy up, and get me used to using a gun again. Make sure I can actually hit what I'm aiming at. Just wait. And then I will be with you the whole way." He finally managed to steady her and hold her gaze. 

Clarke always listened to James in the past, he was always one to help calm her when she was anxious and rationalize her thoughts. But now, as he asked her to delay the search for their son and stay in their demolished neighbourhood for a few more days, she had great difficulty agreeing with him. It was painful just being there, it echoed with memories that haunted her, and she wanted to leave as soon as possible. But she knew she was weak, every part of her ached and her strength was nowhere near what it used to be. She finally let out a conceding sigh and planted her foot.  
"Alright, fine. We'll stay here for three days. No longer than that." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took longer to write than expected, but phew it's finally done and I'm begging the next part already because I like how it's going. :) Any feedback is appreciated!


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